A Birthright and Destiny
by with-etoiles
Summary: Blaine's career as "Nightbird" had gone relatively without a hitch, until he met the beautiful and ragged prisoner they kept underneath the halls of Dalton Academy, now transformed into the headquarters of the evil Dalton Warblers. The boy is not just a play thing the Warblers kept, however; he is more important than that, and they all know it.


_A/N: So, I started writing this a long time ago, and I've got half of it written or something like that, but I've sort of been lagging with the progress, so I figured I'd post it to see if anyone liked where I was going with it. This is a superhero AU, especially exploring the one line that Blaine said in the show, "The Warblers are my birthright." And because who doesn't love Nightbird Blaine? I was just really curious at to what exactly his superpower was in the episode, since they never really made it explicit, and this came out of it. _

Prologue

_Attention, Attention! Resident born superhero Nightbird: The Nocturnal Avenger has been kidnapped! The shocking developments ahead! _

The laptop screen in front of Blaine was slammed shut, and he found Hunter Clarington staring into his eyes.

Blaine bit the tough fabric wrapped around his mouth. It tasted like sweat; he almost gagged. Wouldn't it be great to stain the putrid fabric with some of his own "celebrity" DNA? Maybe Hunter and the Warblers could sell it on E-bay, and make their fortune. And then maybe they'd finally just let him go. Or even just tell him why he was here.

He struggled with the cord that bound him to the wooden chair, but only chaffed his arms.

"Hunter!" he tried to call out through the fabric blockage. "Sebastian!"

"Oh dear me," Hunter said, circling Blaine. A lone light shone on them. The only other light was in the Warbler's trophy case, shining on a written record of all the members of the villainous collaboration, the Warblers. "Well what do we have here? A defenseless Blaine at our dispense? What shall we do about this, Sebastian?"

"Oh, Hunter, believe me, I have my own ideas." Blaine just rolled his eyes at him.

"Could you be any more crude?" he mumbled through his gag.

Sebastian only laughed.

"I don't think you could handle me at my full capacity," Sebastian replied, winking.

Hunter rolled his eyes. "Control your dick, hot shot," he said, his voice settling into a more serious tone. "We have business here."

"Whatever." Sebastian started to back away, but never turned away from them. "I still think my way is better."

"Gather the rest of the Warblers." Sebastian turned and went into the other room, but not before winking again at Blaine.

Hunter began to loosen his gag, and it fell softly against Blaine's collarbone.

"Speak, bird man," Hunter demanded, circling around the chair and kneeling in front of him. "You have answers, and we want them."

"You know," Blaine replied, a little exasperated. "It might help, just a little, if I knew what sort of information you were after."

Hunter waved his hand threateningly in front of Blaine's face. "I have a military training," he said. "I can slap you hard enough to make you run crying back to your tiny Asian mother."

"Oh, short joke, so clever. I am wounded."

"Don't tempt me, Blaine Anderson," Hunter replied, glancing back at the door opening. "This is a top secret facility. No one can break into Dalton. You only get here if you've been invited. But you would know that better than any of us, wouldn't you?"

"Blaine Warbler," Wes said, walking in. "Our creator would know better than anyone, would he not?"

An envoy of warblers, all in various navy blue and red suits, followed behind him. Some carried bows and arrows, some carried old fashioned knives. But all wore a mask to conceal their faces, a dark red mask with black eyes underneath. They began to swarm around Hunter, turning their cold eyes on Blaine.

"We wouldn't want to lose a founding father," Hunter said. "Not again."

He withdrew a knife from behind his back, and rested it lightly on the bridge of Blaine's nose.

"You know what we're after."

"A weakness of mine," Blaine responded, looking him directly in his eyes. "An Achilles heel for you to exploit."

Hunter nodded, to which Blaine smiled, derisively.

"And you really thought it was going to be that easy?"

Thad stepped up from behind Hunter. "Of course. We get what we want. It's the famous Blaine Anderson policy: 'Charm your way to success'. We've got charm, Blaine. And I'm fairly sure that not even you will be able to resist it."

"Debatable," Blaine replied, his smile stretching even wider. He fiddled briefly with his wrists bound with cord, wanting to make it look like he was going to yield answers as he worked his way out.

"We've got something you want, Blaine," Wes said, edging forward. "You might want to think about that before you try to make your bold escape."

"You've all got nothing on me. I'm the one who's got the power here. I always have."

"You're the origin," Hunter corrected. "And you could be erased. We could squash you like a bug."

Blaine said nothing, only bided his time. Hunter continued to stare him down, his green eyes seeming to crystallize into jade the longer he looked.

Sebastian cleared his throat behind him. "Hunter, if you're getting tired of your pointless stare-fest, I still offer my much more agreeable alternative."

"Shut up, Sebastian!" Hunter yelled, whirling around to face him. That was when Blaine saw his chance. He threw his arms out of the cord's embrace and jumped, quickly picking up the chair and throwing it at the Warbler's trophy case. He meant to steal the illuminated list of names, to report the Warblers and destroy his own creation once and for all. But the Warblers had expected him to do so, and they had a backup plan in place. Wes sprung out of the mass of Warblers to confront Blaine, a knife with a navy blue and red striped hilt in his hand.

"Go on," he tempted. "Test me. See what I can do."

Blaine looked at him, at the bare determination in his eyes, at the strict figure blocking his path.

"Wes, listen to me," Blaine said, eyeing the other Warblers creeping up on him in his peripheral vision. "You said it yourself; I'm the founding father of this place. I don't want to fight you."

"Coward," Wes snarled, eyes trained only on Blaine.

"Really?" Blaine questioned. "Am I the coward? I know my fair share about cowardice, I admit. But it's still less than what you and the Warblers have amassed."

"At your behest," Wes added. "Don't forget that little detail."

"Minor," Blaine responded, laughing.

He moved to get around Wes, heading towards the exit, but the Warblers had anticipated that move too. The flood of blue and red would've been quite intimidating, had Blaine been afraid of them.

Blaine looked up at the ceiling, and as if on cue, a ceiling tile dropped, and a rope strung together from bowties spindled down from the sky.

"You see," Blaine said, hoisting himself up the rope. "I can't really fly. But I have other friends who can help me escape like I'm 'flying away'." He took a bow from above. "Consider yourself witness to one of such."

Santana laughed from above. "Serves you right! I mean really, what kind of color scheme is this you've got going on? I feel like I'm in a preppy Pepsi commercial."

A moment later, Blaine was almost at the top, Santana extending her hand for him to grasp hold of. But he heard a call of "Blaine Warbler" below, and he couldn't help but look down.

Thad was holding a delicate boy in his grip. He had gray, sagging clothes, which looked like they were once expensive but had been worn down by time's sand paper hand. His brown hair, which stuck out every way, was speckled with dust and dirt, but Blaine swore that he could've mistaken it for glitter. His lean stature almost seemed to droop in Thad's grip. Had Thad gripped any tighter, Blaine was afraid the porcelain boy would melt to dust.

"I swear to god, if a pretty boy is going to keep you from coming with me-!" Santana called out from above.

But Blaine wasn't listening, because then the boy looked up, and Blaine was lost. His lips were so pale, his eyes so blue, his expression so hopeless! He looked up and it was if Blaine could feel the gauntness not only resting on his frame but on his heart.

"How's this for charm?" Thad called out, jerking the boy upright.

Blaine started to lower himself down the rope, the fabric pliant to his grip.

"I know secrets about you I can spread to the whole world!" Santana yelled. "Secrets that can destroy your entire stupid 'Nightbird' persona!"

Blaine only saw the boy. Only saw the distressed, beautiful look on his face.

"Blaine Anderson masturbates!" he heard Santana yell behind him. "I caught him once in the act!"

Blaine dropped to the ground.

"Pictures!" Santana frantically screamed. "I have pictures I'm willing to sell!"

Sebastian snapped up at the air. "I'll pay any price you name."

"Oh my god." She looked tempted to give Sebastian the middle finger, but she settled with rubbing her hand violently, try to massage the irritation away. "Normally I wouldn't care about your perving, but go do it on someone other than my best friend, alright?"

Sebastian only shrugged. "Your best friend is ours now," he said, as they took Blaine's arms and drew them behind his back. The captive boy looked at him; his eyes searched Blaine's, hauntingly.

"Why did you do this?" he whispered; Blaine barely heard. A jerk upright stopped his speech and he fell silent again, concentrating on the floor, but Blaine made no such pretense. He stared openly at the tattered clothed prisoner, even as Hunter slapped him, holding his face between his hands.

"Listen to me, Blaine" he said lowly, "you're under our jurisdiction now. You're going to give us what we want, okay? And maybe you'll get something you want in return. But you're playing by our rules here."

"I don't particularly like your rules," Blaine challenged.

Hunter only laughed, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Sebastian? Wes?" He waved his hand in the air. "Take them away."

"Still not afraid of you!" Blaine called out behind him.

There was no noise, only the sound of Hunter's feet as they paced across the tile.


End file.
